A Part of My Story

**Potential Trigger Warning: I debated posting this and held the post for several days going back and forth about whether I wanted to share this piece of my story. This morning I concluded that nothing will ever change if no one knows any of our stories. So I’m posting it. What’s done is done and there’s no going back, but there are lessons to be learned. I invite and encourage others to share their stories as well. This post is being filed under “Mental Health,” because I don’t know where else it really fit and because our life experiences certainly

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I hate the world today

I really think I do. It’s not the world’s fault specifically and admittedly, I’m sitting here with a narrower view than I wish I had. That’s generally par for the course for Americans so far as I can tell. I took a bit of a break from the news cycles because I had so much going on in my personal life and needed to focus on getting myself and my immediate family a home in which to live. We’re settling in, still struggling but at least we have a home again. This week’s news cycles have been pretty brutal from

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Oh, the dastardly controller of thine life: Credit Scores

There’s no denying the simple fact that the quality of adult life rests largely upon the three little numbers derived from the sum of everything on a stupid credit report file. Daily credit, car loans, home mortgages, even jobs in some cases, all care about this number and use it to judge whether you’d be a good risk – as a consumer, an employee, or anything freaking else it seems. I hate that something so impersonal wields such power. Once upon a time I had a very carefully managed and controlled credit file of stellar quality. I worked hard for

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